Meng Zhao looked up at the Demon Ox on the arena, solid as though it were real. Its entire body was pitch-black, clad in thick armor like dragon scales, its muscles knotted and bulging. Its two upward-pointing horns resembled a pair of curved long blades. Had he not seen with his own eyes that it was Niu Dali's Martial Dao Dharma Form, it would have been hard to believe it had been condensed from true qi and vital blood.
Su Can, usually a man of few words, suddenly had an astonishing gleam burst from his eyes. He nodded and said,
"It has already approached the realm of a divine form. He may yet have a chance to fight."
At this moment, many of those around the arena had already pronounced Niu Dali's death sentence in their hearts. The spectacle Ji Chang had created was simply too immense: dark clouds blanketed the heavens and earth, drawing forth divine thunder and wielding the power of nature. To a certain extent, he had accomplished a feat that not even martial arts grandmasters might be able to achieve.
Yet a small number of people held different views, Meng Zhao and the others among them.
There was no denying that Ji Chang's move had surpassed everyone's expectations. Even Meng Zhao, who had supreme confidence in his peerless divine arts and extraordinary discernment, had not expected him to possess such an unfathomable method and exquisite technique, borrowing the power of a grand formation to guide lightning into being.
But a shortcut was still a shortcut. The thunder qi of the Heavenly Yin Divine Thunder was cold and frigid, belonging to Yin Lightning. The divine thunder condensed from its lingering thunder qi could still not compare to true natural lightning. That was the first point.
Second, the